


After Hours

by ducktwacy



Category: Green Eggs and Ham (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst, Dr Seuss, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:22:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25116832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ducktwacy/pseuds/ducktwacy
Summary: After Sam leaves a phone call promising Snerz custody of the chickaraffee, he’s got a lot on his mind. The comforts of Guy Am I are the sure thing to cure what ails him... or is it?
Relationships: Guy Am I/Sam I Am (Green Eggs and Ham)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 54





	After Hours

**Author's Note:**

> a little fic i wrote for my girlfriend!!! i’m still no writing master and this is my first shot in the world of GEaH so... i hope you enjoy it!! :D

“It’s me. You’ll have the chickaraffe on schedule as promised…”

Sam bit back a sigh before he allowed himself to continue.

“ _...Mister Snerz_.”

The triumphant, raspy boom of “Splendid! Absolutely splendid!” that followed on the other end of the line did little to alleviate the weight crushing down on the Who’s chest. Snerz’s fit of sadistic laughing crackling like cellophane through the phone connection was no victory for Sam. Instead, it served as a harsh reminder of his disloyalty.

Jerking the phone away from his ear so as to distance himself from his treachery, Sam placed the phone back in its place with a heavy heart, heaving an even heavier sigh. Here he was. Sam-I-Am: Backstabber. He had just got done exchanging vulnerabilities with Guy, talking about how much he—no, Guy’s family—loved him, how Guy was a sensitive, creative soul. He had just got done sharing his biggest secret, allowing himself a moment to pour his true self into Guy’s grasp. 

And now, here he was, infiltrating the Am-I residence, frozen in the dark kitchen, treading on Guy’s territory, treading on Guy’s heart, treading on Guy, treading on all loyalty and faith. 

Guy.

Sam spared a look out of the kitchen window, peering up at the treehouse, the tent, the area where he had just exposed himself moments before. _Guy._ What was he going to do? Yell? Scream? Argue? Abandon him like everyone else? Would he stare at Sam with those big, soulful eyes? What would be in those eyes? Fury? Disgust? Disappointment? Hurt?

Heartache?

Each and every possibility rose up into one large clump of “what if”s in his throat, a lump he couldn’t force down. 

He knew it was selfish, but he wanted to spend a little more time with the Knox. Before he had to reveal the truth. He needed the calm before the storm. Hopefully, Guy would still be in a giving mood, and allow him to sleep in the tent with him with little to no dispute.

With that, the tiny traitor opened the kitchen door with as much quietude as he could muster, hoping not to bring any attention to himself. The night air previously had felt so refreshing and inviting, an occasional breeze tickling Sam’s fur, but now that comfort just felt like one, giant, sick joke. 

Sam made his way towards the entrance of the treehouse, giving a half-hearted handshake devoid of the same energy and flavor he had just given it minutes prior. The lights turned a blinding, harsh, bile green to give Sam the go-ahead to intrude in Guy’s space once more. Thankfully, Guy hadn’t pulled the rope back up, leaving Sam access to scale to the tent once more. 

There it was.

Sam attempted to force down the bile building up in his throat as he spotted Guy’s silhouette painted against the walls of the tent, illuminated by the soft glow of the pinwheel inside. With furtive footsteps, the Who made his way over to the front of the tent, halting. He felt terrible for intruding on Guy’s space. Maybe he should turn back right then and there. How cruel do you have to be to crave the company of someone you’ve just backstabbed? How cruel—

“Sam?”

Sam’s breath hitched, his the edges of his muzzle turning crimson. For once, he was at a loss of words.

Guy didn’t move out of the tent, but Sam could practically see the smile on his lips as the Knox crooned “Sam, you know I can see you,” a chuckle vibrating his words.

Cautiously, Sam dared to part the opening of the tent, lowering his hat with timid paws. Guy was lying down at the end of the tent, propping himself up with his elbow, staring at Sam with inquisitive, adoring eyes. Sam lowered his gaze, staring at the brim of his hat in his hands as Guy asked “What brings you back?”

Wringing the hat in his hands, Sam scuffed a furry foot on the ground, finding it increasingly difficult to avoid Guy’s gaze. 

“Could I… sleep with you tonight?”

When the Who dared himself to lift his chin up to meet Guy’s gaze, he was surprised to see a small smile spreading on Guy’s face. “Of course you can,” he answered, watching with that same analytical stare he always bore, waiting to see Sam’s next move.

Sam felt obligated to muster up a small “Thanks,” making his way towards the other side of the tent. He placed his hat down on the ground in substitution for a pillow, curling up in the corner and tucking his knees to his chest. Despite having his back turned, he could feel a pair of eyes piercing through his fur, sending a tingle up through his spine. 

“Nuh-uh.”

Guy’s tone was low and bordering on playful as he patted the ground next to him, prompting Sam to peer over his shoulder. “You’re sleeping next to me,” Guy told him. It wasn’t a question—it was a statement.

The insides of Sam sizzled like a griddle as he stared at his companion. Guy was voluntarily asking—no, telling—Sam to sleep next to him. How cruel and twisted would it be for Sam to oblige? Cuddling up with the man you betrayed just ticks ago? With the man you poured your heart out to, with the man who poured _his_ heart out to you, with the man whose faith and trust you’re going to wreck and destroy in a fiery crash? What kind of sick and twisted son of a yip would agree to that?

Sam, evidently.

He supposed he didn’t have a choice, and Guy’s adoring gaze was making the fur on his neck stand up and itch. Inhaling a shuddery sigh through his nostrils, Sam makes his way over to Guy, curling up relatively close to the Knox’s all-consuming chest.

“Come on, come closer than that,” Guy teased, prompting Sam to scoot forward a few more inches. Why was Guy being so nice to him? So playful? He would never know. Yet, he also knew that this moment would likely be the only moment of its kind they would have together, so he might as well embrace it.

A small gasp escaped the Who as he felt a furry arm wrap over his body and pull him close, right up into Guy’s fur. 

Boy, was he comfortable.

Reluctantly, Sam allowed himself to relax his tense shoulders, melting into Guy’s embrace. He was so soft and warm, and smelled so nice. He smelled like home. Guy _was_ home.

But, like all of the other homes, Sam knew this home was not a permanent home. 

Still, the thief let himself indulge in Guy’s senses that sunk into his thoughts, drowning out his worries for just that moment. He buried his cheek in Guy’s cream-colored fluff, letting himself be vulnerable to the inviting touch.

Sam dared himself to comment, and with a few tugs of confidence, he whispered: “You smell nice.”

Sam cringed at his words immediately, expecting Guy to lash back in his usual, grumpy tone. Yet this time the Knox belted out a chuckle as he held Sam, only pulling the two closer. 

“Oh, really?” Guy said. Sam couldn’t see the other’s face then, but he could already tell a smirk formed on Guy’s mug.

Instead of giving a proper response, Sam stayed silent, a flurry of emotions whipping up quite the storm inside himself. Embarrassment. Heartache. Defeat. Anger. Comfort. It was all so much to bear, he couldn’t tell which bore the biggest burden—the treachery or the love. 

Though Sam was all too aware of the frenzy thrashing around inside, he hadn’t even realized that it had started to penetrate to his exterior. A gasp caught in his throat as he felt the warm, furry grasp resting so comfortably on his back tighten. Guy’s hand shook against Sam’s back. Er, that is, _Sam’s_ back shook against Guy’s hand. He was trembling.

“You’re trembling…”

Guy’s voice was a raspy whisper, like the sound of crunching gravel. It both washed over Sam as a wave of comfort and stabbed into his heart—he didn’t want anyone to be concerned for him. Not after this. Not now.

Opting not to respond, Sam instead squeezed his eyes shut, planting his face firmly into the interminable jungle that was Guy’s neck fur, taking deep, sharp breaths through his nose. Guy’s scent was more than comforting, but it still did little to alleviate the Who’s pain. It only reminded him instead. 

When Sam timidly latched his free arm over the Knox’s shoulder, that’s when he heard another raspy whisper. Guy’s breath ruffled the top of his head.

“Do you… want to talk about it?”

No. Yes. He didn’t know. He _did_ know. The pain was wrenching at him. His backstabbing treachery would haunt him forever. What a cruel little yip, leading Guy on like this. He _did_ want to talk about it, but knew he couldn’t afford to say what was on his mind. Guy didn’t deserve to be lied to, to be lead on, to be left in the dark, but he also didn’t deserve to be backstabbed so painfully and gut-wrenchingly.

No, Sam did _not_ want to talk about it.

Yet, knowing further silence would arouse even more questions in his companion, Sam opted to formulate a flimsy excuse.

“It’s nothing,” he answered, his voice sounding smaller than his own height. His words were muffled by the swath of thick, creamy fur. “It’s just the cold. Chilly.”

That same lump that had been welling in the Who’s throat since the phone call only grew bigger and bigger as the night wore on, and he feared it would all burst out as he felt large, soft, furry fingers give gentle strokes against his trembling back. As simultaneously dirty and comforted as Sam felt with the display, he allowed himself to stay buried in the Knox. Just this once. He knew this chance wouldn’t come again.

Once more, Guy’s voice sent gentle vibrations through Sam’s scalp as he pressed softly “We don’t have to, uh… sleep… together… or anything…”

Sam allowed himself a moment to mull over the Knox’s words. Guy was too considerate for his own good. He tried to maintain this grumpy, steely, hard-to-approach attitude, refusing Sam’s all too enthusiastic hugs, shooting him angry glares and glowers and stares and so forth, but despite all that, Sam knew the Knox had a lovable side to him. He knew, that under all that orange fur, under those wrinkles and creases and frown lines, under those deep, brown eyes, under that miserable disposition… he knew that there was a creative, eager, compassionate Guy waiting to burst. He just needed the right someone to show him the way.

Though Sam knew that deep down, his partner was a nice guy, this newfound gentility in Guy was still rather disarming. The way he mulled over his words so carefully, the way he gave soft, gentle strokes against Sam’s back, the way he smelled so nice, felt so warm… the way he displayed his true, vulnerable self… it made Sam feel validated and disgusted, disgusted in himself. He had earned Guy’s trust, and now it was all about to go out the window.

Nevertheless, Sam forced a response out, one that actually had a layer of authenticity to it.

“It’s fine. It’s… it’s nice to finally share it with somebody.”

He hadn’t even noticed, but the trembles in the little Benedict Arnold’s bones had ceased almost entirely. Despite his eyes being closed, he could feel his eyelids tugging down, bogged down by comfort and exhaustion, both mental and physical. Guy’s heartbeat hummed against his ear, and he allowed himself to go limp and rise and fall with the cadence of the Knox’s breaths. Guy’s strokes slowed considerably, melting into a lighter, more irregular pattern as exhaustion finally overcame him as well.

The din of the Knox’s heartbeat was the last thing Sam was aware of before he allowed himself to slip into sleep. He enjoyed it while he could, because he knew that soon enough, that heartbeat would be the beat to a broken heart.


End file.
